The Last to Know
by Draco Volatile
Summary: Draco Malfoy is the last to know of the tragedy in his family. Rated PG for death.


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Title: The Last to Know  
  
Author: Draco Volatile  
  
Rating: PG for death.  
  
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing.  
  
Summary: Draco Malfoy is the last to hear of the tragedy in his family.  
  
A/N: Um, I don't know what inspired me to write this. Or to put Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, and Mr. Nott in this fic. But R&R   
anyways.   
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The three Death Eaters stared up at the Malfoy mansion, at the ivy-covered pillars that held up the porch roof, at the acres   
of gardens beyond the house, and up at the seventh-floor window lit by a single candle. They shivered.  
  
"When do you suppose we should go in?" Crabbe asked, pulling his robes closer to him, trying to keep in the warmth.  
  
Goyle snorted. "No need to go tonight. It's past midnight already."  
  
"I'm going to suggest putting this off as long as possible," Nott said through chattering teeth. "Lucius did say that   
Narcissa was not to be disappointed."  
  
"But we can't do that, can we?" Crabbe growled. "We can hardly not tell her."  
  
"And the boy, Draco. . . ." Nott gave in. "We must tell them."  
  
They began their walk up the long concrete-paved driveway to the mansion.  
~*~  
Draco Malfoy woke up, but only to find himself lost in total darkness. He retrieved a Muggle flashlight -an object his father   
resented him keeping- from under his pillow and flipped the switch to light up the room. The beam of yellow light landed on   
his candle on the windowsill, which had burnt down past the holder. A trail of dried wax was plastered to the wall, where the   
candle had melted down. He shook his head and silently decided not to clean up the dried wax, and to get a servant do it for   
him.  
  
Then Draco realized that the house was silent. Silence in the Malfoy mansion was uncommon, and even frightening for a person   
who wasn't used to it. Someone was always partying or playing soft music or drinking and laughing merrily with friends in the   
halls. But not tonight. Everything was so quiet and stationary that Draco could hear the crickets outside, many floors below.   
It wasn't often that he could enjoy simple things such as the chirping of crickets, and so he cherished that moment and vowed   
to remember for the rest of his life what a cricket sounded like . . .  
  
"Draco."  
  
Draco looked to see his mother walk into his room, a candle in her hand. She sat down beside him and stroked his hair. Her   
pale, narrow face was streaked with tears, and her eyes were red and puffy from crying.  
  
"What happened?" he asked. The crickets stopped chirping.  
  
Narcissa continued to run her fingers through her son's hair but did not speak.   
  
"What is it, Mother?" Draco felt his throat go dry. He had never seen his mother this upset before.  
  
"Draco," she repeated. "Everyone knows. It hardly seems right to keep it from you any longer."  
  
"Keep what from me, Mother?" Draco looked up at her.  
  
Narcissa looked down into her son's silver eyes, wondering if he was ready to hear the terrible news.  
  
"Three of your father's good friends came hours ago. They told me that there has been an accident. An awful accident."  
  
"An accident?" Draco's eyes blurred with tears. "How?"  
  
"Draco. Your father and I have taught you well. We have taught you to cope with disaster, for it is a reoccurring thing for   
us Malfoys. We have also taught you that some things happen, and cannot be reversed, no matter what you do. Do you still   
understand that?"  
  
"Y-Yes."  
  
Narcissa set down her candle and held Draco close to her. "Your father has died. He was dueling with Sirius Black and he got  
blasted by the Unforgivable Curses. Perhaps it is best that it went fast . . . he did not suffer too bad . . . You mustn't   
worry, Draco. It was quick and silent and he felt hardly no pain at all."  
  
Draco, overcome with emotion, was too stunned to cry, too stunned to think clearly. He just stared at the blank white wall   
across the room, unaware that his mother had begun to cry.  
  
"I am sorry," she whispered, "that you had to be the last to know."  
~*~*~ 


End file.
